


A Close Eye

by sleepylotus



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-01
Updated: 2016-09-01
Packaged: 2018-08-12 11:19:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7932667
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sleepylotus/pseuds/sleepylotus
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>One must keep a close eye upon Elizabeth Swann, for she is prone to disappearance. James saves Elizabeth from a suitor with less than pure intentions. Pre-CotBP Norribeth *fluff*.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Close Eye

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: A brief note on the historical context of this fic. The French and Spanish were constantly passing in and out of enmity with England around this time. It was actually very hard for colonies to keep abreast of whether they were supposed to be warring with their neighbors in the Caribbean or not. Even when a truce was on, it was shaky business, often taken with a grain of salt, for history always proved that they would not last long. Also, the King’s House was actually what they called the Governor’s Mansion in Port Royal. 
> 
> II: And as far as the timeline, I envision this taking place sometime not long before James’ promotion to Commodore.

Halfway through the evening Elizabeth disappeared.

That in of itself was nothing new, truth be told. James needed both hands to count the times Weatherby had come to him frantic, unable to find his wayward child. But, Elizabeth was not a child anymore. A fact of which James, and most of the male population of Port Royal, had become aware.

Weatherby asked James if he would look over the grounds of the King’s House, a task of which James was all too happy to take on, if for anything to escape the crush of the ball. She was probably on a secluded bench somewhere deep in the garden, doing exactly that.

However, when James found Elizabeth, in the garden as expected, she was _not_ alone but in the company of Mr. David Croft, the son of a wealthy planter and in James' opinion, a ne'er-do-well. The young man was well known for his penchant for gambling and frequenting houses of ill repute. He was far more likely to give Elizabeth a disease than a proper offer, that was for sure.

The pair were seated on a stone bench, laughing about something and mooning in a rather improper way. Elizabeth was young and perhaps too brash, but Croft certainly knew better.

James cleared his throat loudly. "Elizabeth, your father is looking for you." Elizabeth did not seem to be terribly surprised to have been found by James, though Croft barely restrained the hostility in his expression.

"I will return her shortly, Captain Norrington."

"I'm afraid that will not do." James used the voice he reserved for pirates and unruly midshipmen, and Croft seemed to take exception. "I say—”

"If you have anything to say on the matter you may tell me at dawn in the place of your choosing. Bring your second. Otherwise, I would suggest you be off."

Croft was not so out of his head that stepping out with Captain Norrington, a notorious dead shot and famously wicked with a blade, seemed a good or necessary idea. He settled for shooting the Captain a dirty look, and after bidding Elizabeth farewell, stalked back towards the house.

Elizabeth watched this exchange between the two men with ill-disguised amusement. "James!" she exclaimed when Croft was out of earshot, effervescent with youth and possibly too much punch. "I believe you scared Mr. Croft half to death!" She said it with a smile, and stumbled clumsily into James' arms with a little cry that turned into a giggle as the Captain’s arms wrapped around her.

"Steady there, Miss Swann."

"How clumsy of me." She looked down at his hands upon her waist, long fingers that nearly spanned her entire torso. "My, you have large hands, James." There was a warmth in her voice that inspired an answering spark in the Captain, a thing he was not _entirely_ comfortable with.

"Erm—yes, Miss Swann. I suppose so."

His heart quickened as she pressed against him more, a bewitching smile curling her lips. "I should be cross, you know," she informed him coquettishly.

"Should you?"

"Yes. I believe Mr. Croft intended to kiss me, and I have never been kissed before. A deplorable state for a woman my age, to be sure, and I am quite curious about it. Perhaps you will be so good as to enlighten me?"

James felt his stomach clench, because there was _nothing_ he would like more. "I am not sure that is such a good idea."

"I think it is an _excellent_ idea," she expounded, poking him in the chest. Distracted, by the decided way his flesh did _not_ give beneath her finger, her lips parted. "Why James, you are solid as a rock beneath all this wool and brocade!"

Sufficiently mortified, and flummoxed besides, James rolled his eyes to the heavens. What had he done to deserve this? "I'm not sure if I should be pleased you noticed or insulted that you're surprised," he snarked, covering the flip he felt in his stomach and the thrill that ran through him as her small, curious hands smoothed over his chest. He supported most of her weight in his arms, and reckoned if he put some distance between them she would fall over.

 _That_ was the reason he held her closer, he told himself.

Cheekily she smiled up at him, unfazed, her eyes glittering with mischief.

_God she was beautiful._

"Just how much have you had to drink tonight?" He questioned, marveling that she could consume enough of the fruity but weak punch to get this drunk.

"Only three glasses," she defended. "Mr. Croft brought them to me."

James' suspicions and fears were confirmed with this revelation. Undoubtedly the cad had put a little something extra in Miss Swann's glass, hoping to get the girl into a compromising position. Elizabeth possessed a famously substantial dowry, and if discovered alone with her by the right scandalized party he would be sure to collect.

Perhaps James would be calling out that bastard after all.

Elizabeth's gentle fingers on his cheek called James back to the present. "Are you angry with me, James?" she asked, noting his stormy expression.

"No, Miss Swann, of course not."

"Won't you call me Elizabeth?"

James sighed. It seemed like a dangerous proposition at the moment to tear down that last barrier of propriety. But as usual, she had her way with him. "If you like, Elizabeth."

Her name felt _ridiculously_ good upon his tongue.

"That's better. Now then, about that kiss."

James _blushed_. He could feel the heat blooming across his neck and cheeks and ears, and was very grateful for the darkness of the garden.

"You are incorrigible."

"I am _determined_ ," she amended cheekily. "I was willing to settle for Croft, but you are a true prize, Captain Norrington. All the women of Port Royal think so, and for once I concur with popular opinion."

Of course, such a thing was flattering to hear, though the part about Elizabeth thinking him a _prize_ was certainly his favorite. His grip tightened upon her involuntarily, and it took everything he had not to lower his head and devour her. "You flatter me, my lady, but I think it's high time we get back inside."

Elizabeth pouted. "No, not yet," she pleaded. "It's so stuffy in there. So... _dreadful_." She dug in her heels, refusing to budge.

James sighed again. "If I agree to kiss you will you go?"

Immediately she brightened, like a child sensing she would soon get her way. "Yes."

James leaned down, pecking her upon the cheek. Her skin was smooth and soft and even that small contact made him dizzy with longing. "There now. Come along like a good girl."

Disappointment spread across her features, a look so full of dejection that James actually despised himself for causing her such unhappiness, even if he was trying to be a gentleman and spare her reputation. "Is that all?" She asked sadly, pursing her lips.

Had she misjudged James so horribly? For the longest time she'd thought he fancied her, and had just begun to warm to the idea.

James felt his heart break a little, and before he knew it he was pulling her closer, cupping her cheek in his hand. "No, that is _not_ all."

He pressed his lips to hers, gentle at first, but as her sweet full lips instinctively opened for him he could not _help_ but deepen their kiss, sweeping inside her mouth with a teasing tongue. She tasted of punch, and brandy, and James had his answer, though it was not exactly evidence he could present in a court of law. His fingers slipped into her hair at the base of her skull and she moaned, her hands clenching his shoulders, holding on tight.

When at last he pulled away the young woman panted with delight, starry eyed. "Oh," was all she could say, as though James had settled some great ponderous question for her.

"Oh, _indeed_ ," he agreed, resting his forehead against hers for the last moment he would allow himself. Pulling back seemed like the most difficult task he'd ever undertaken . "Now, my lady, I really must insist."

This time she went with a secret smile, leaning heavily against his arm. As they reached the house she depended on him almost completely for propulsion, and James hated the thought of what the wags would say if given the chance to see her like this. So instead he led her through a side door, and instructed a passing servant to fetch governor Swann.

Weatherby came in a hurry, relief on his face to see his daughter in James' capable hands. Elizabeth leaned on James a great deal, but to his relief the Governor did not seem too scandalized.

"Elizabeth! Are you drunk?!"

The answer was yes, of course, and she only giggled in response, and swayed in her seat. She would have fallen had James not propped her up.

"I don't believe it was entirely her fault, sir."

Weatherby raised his eyebrows, alarm apparent in his features. "Is there something I must know?"

"Thankfully not. But perhaps it would be best if Miss Swann retired for the evening?"

She began to giggle again and said something fast and rather unintelligible, leaving James' inquiry all but answered.

"Let me send for Estrella," said Weatherby, and soon Elizabeth's maid appeared.

"Now then, Miss, let's get you upstairs." She attempted to help Elizabeth to her feet, and the small woman was almost taken to the ground herself. James sighed, knowing there was only one course of action that would get Miss Swann safely up to her room. He waved Estrella aside and swept Elizabeth up into his arms, nodding for the maid to lead the way.

She was so small yet somehow voluminous in all her petticoats and fine gown. James' heart did a somersault as she sighed contentedly, resting her head upon his shoulder. He could not help but think she fit rather well there.

Weatherby followed close behind as they scaled the stairway, and paused in the doorway of Elizabeth 's room as James carried her inside, laying her down on her feather bed. Estrella fussed with lighting the lanterns. Elizabeth called back his attention, lacing her long fingers with his. "Wouldn't it be nice if you could stay," she mused airily, causing James' eyes to veritably bug out of his head.

"I believe we both know that is impossible," he said softly, winning a puckish smile from his lady. She settled back into her soft pillow, content as a cat.

"Will you at least kiss me good night?" she teased, and James reckoned his cheeks must have veritably glowed in the low light.

"Elizabeth, your father is just outside," the Commodore reminded her quietly.

The insouciant girl paid him a cheeky grin.

"Oh he won't mind. He wants me to marry you. Didn't you know?"

James closed his eyes and swallowed, _hard_. This girl would be the _death_ of him. He dared glance back in Weatherby's direction, who pretended interest in a painting on the wall.

No help at all.

James should have left it at that, but by God he had to _know_.

"And what would you think of such an arrangement, my lady?"

She smiled coyly, looking up at the canopy of her bed, mum on the subject. James gave a pained sigh, smiling in spite of himself. "Good night, Miss Swann."

She turned on her side, pouting a little. "Good night, James. Thank you. You're my Knight in Shining Armor you know."

He bowed over her hand, and beat a hasty retreat.

* * *

 

 

A few days later James was surprised when his steward, Jenkins, announced that Miss Elizabeth Swann requested permission to come aboard the Dauntless. Of course, Captain Norrington granted it, tidying his already immaculate cabin in a whirlwind of nerves. She soon appeared in the doorway, escorted by Jenkins and Miss Estrella.

“May I steal a moment of your time, Captain?” she asked with a formality that made it hard to believe this was the same insouciant creature he had carted in his arms up the stairs at the ball.

“Of course, Miss Swann. May I offer you anything? Tea?”

“No, thank you. I would hate to make more of a nuisance of myself than I already have. Estrella, I won’t be long,” dismissed Elizabeth. Quite used to this, the maid turned to wait in the anteroom. James waved for Jenkins to leave the door open. _Just in case._

Elizabeth seemed amused by this obvious tactic for keeping up propriety. “Afraid I might ravish you?” she teased. “I suppose I can’t blame you, after what I put you through earlier.”

James immediately colored, heat blooming beneath his skin. Tugging at his neck cloth, he cleared his throat pointedly. He wanted to smile at her jest, and yet it seemed dangerous to encourage her. “Of course not, Miss Swann. It is simply…best, I think.”

With a sigh Elizabeth fell down into the seat James offered, more so that James could sit, than for her own comfort. Lately she felt strangely restless in James’ company, in part because of embarrassment, and part… She didn’t really know, but that damnably curious part of her wanted to find out.

“I have come to apologize for my behavior a few nights ago. I acted… _foolishly_ , and I am grateful that you are such a gentleman, James. Thank you for coming to my aid. You are ever my knight in shining armor, truly.” She found she could not meet his eyes, remembering how coquettishly she had conducted herself in the garden. Like a proper tart, no doubt, and an unschooled one at that.

“Not at all…Elizabeth.” Again, it felt so _good_ to use her Christian name. Too good, perhaps. “I do not hold you at fault. It was Croft’s behavior that was left wanting.” A fact of which that James, Gillette, and Groves sought to drive home into Croft’s thick skull, in an alley after the fiend left a brothel on foot the very next evening. A battered Croft took the Commodore’s point quite seriously, and agreed to never so much as _look_ at Miss Swann again, after which he’d promptly pissed himself with fear.

James went on, “He plied you with spirits, and I am only glad that I arrived before true disaster could strike.”

“As am I. Marriage to a cad like Croft seems a distasteful prospect now that I am in right mind.”

James allowed himself a smile. He was not a man who usually enjoyed inspiring fear in others, but it had felt sinfully good to put that blaggard Croft in his place.

Elizabeth looked down at her basket again, peeking beneath a linen cloth. “Well. I baked you a little something sweet, to say thank you for your gallantry.” James raised his eyebrows, surprised. He hadn’t thought she had any interest in _anything_ to do with the kitchen, and he vaguely recalled a conversation with Weatherby bemoaning Elizabeth’s contempt for all things culinary, and most other feminine accomplishments, truth be told.

“Thank you. I am sure I will enjoy it with much pleasure.”

Elizabeth pressed her lips, nodding slightly. She wanted to say _something_ more, though she wasn’t exactly sure _what,_ and it didn’t seem the right opportunity would present itself to discover it. James was a busy man, she knew, and his time was valuable. Suddenly she stood, causing James to rocket to his feet as well, ever the gentleman. It caused her to smile, though James detected a note of sadness in it. He wondered what he’d said wrong, or perhaps what he _didn’t_ say.

She held out her hand, and graciously James bowed over it, pressing his lips to her fingers. Perhaps he lingered just a _second_ too long. With his hand in hers Elizabeth felt a small surge of courage, and before he could draw away her long fingers wrapped around his.

“James?”

When she said his name like that, so _softly,_ it did something inexplicable to his insides, _and_ his knees. “Yes?”

“There is was one part of the evening I cannot regret, even if propriety dictates I should.”

James waited with bated breath for her to _name_ said part of the evening, but she simply paid him an enigmatic smile, and turned to go. Her fingers slipped from his, and his heart fell to his feet as she took a step away from him, and then another.

He spoke before better sense could prevail upon him, an affliction he knew often when in the company of Miss Swann. “What part, Elizabeth?”

She half turned back to him, the corner of her mouth curled, and James’ heart answered with a booming timpani roll. “Why, our kiss, of course.”

A real smile took hold of James before he could school his features, a flash of white teeth that Elizabeth reckoned she’d never beheld before. Immediately embarrassed, the Captain quickly looked to the buckles of his shoes, knowing his cheeks took on a shade of ridiculous pink for a hardened Navy commander. He clasped his hands behind his back, mostly to keep himself from grabbing this girl up and demonstrating his skills in the art of kissing again.

“Erm…if I may be so bold?”

“Please, do speak frankly. I think you know I prefer it.”

He cleared his throat. “I did speak with your father, after…seeing you abed.”

“Yes?” Her dark eyes positively glittered, with what he hoped was true pleasure, and not anticipated mirth at his expense. He knew he was not a ladies man, as Groves affectionately liked to remind him in moments when they teased each other freely.

James realized a long pause dragged on, and he steeled himself to get it out. Somehow French muskets and pirate cutlasses both seemed less intimidating than the thought of rejection from this woman he regarded so highly. “He did confirm that he would allow me the honor of courting you. That is…if such a thing would…please _you_?”

It was Elizabeth’s turn to flash a true smile of delight, and she closed the steps between them once again. “That would please me _very_ much, James.”

The Commodore sighed with relief, but returned to ramrod straight posture when Elizabeth reached up to touch his cheek. “For such an imposing man of authority, James Norrington, I am beginning to think you have a delectably sweet center.”

Though he did not really think she meant to speak in such salacious double-entendre, James’ eyes went wide with the possible connotation of her statement. His eyes flew to the open door, and he was relieved to see Jenkins and Miss Estrella chatting, paying very little mind to the goings-on in James’ cabin.

He reached up to clasp her hand in his, pressing his lips to her fingers once more. “Only for you, Elizabeth Swann. You render me quite defenseless. If I did not know any better I would suspect you for a Spanish agent,” he teased, winning a laugh that warmed his heart. Suddenly he felt as though the organ in question was floating around somewhere near his head, and not beating to quarters in his chest. She made him so _happy,_ and it was a wondrous thing.

“One never knows,” she teased back, tapping his chest with the flat of her fan. “You had best keep a close eye on me, to be sure.”

James schooled his expression to a slightly less blinding smile, bowing his head in acquiescence. “A task I will assume with joy, I assure you.”

After that she said her goodbyes and quit the cabin, collecting Estrella to move on with their day, and James stared at the door long after she had gone. This was not the outcome _at all_ he’d expected from the debacle at the King’s House, and he sighed like a love-struck school boy.

At tea time James peeked in the basket she’d brought, pulling out what appeared to be some sort of sweet biscuit, though it looked rather lumpy and slightly burnt on the edges. Yet because it was baked with good will in mind he tried a bite.

He even valiantly tried to chew it, before spitting it out into his napkin, making a face.

Clearly baking was _not_ one of Elizabeth’s feminine accomplishments, though he could find nothing but amusement in the fact, and warmth for the knowledge that she had tried, probably for the first time, for _him_.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Your comments are greatly cherished! :D


End file.
